


The Festival of the Seven Fathers

by Moon_Rose (Moonrose91)



Series: Holiday Fanfics for Various Verses [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Deaf Bilbo, Fluff, I warn for individual stuff in the Chapter Summaries, Kissing, M/M, Mostly character tags, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-01-06 07:48:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1104272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonrose91/pseuds/Moon_Rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin smiled as he carefully held Bilbo's hand, turning it gently so the palm was face-up and pressed a kiss on the center of it, Bilbo's fingers happily curling slightly against his cheek. It was so different from their rocky start and Thorin leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Bilbo's forehead.</p><p>And he knew exactly the thanks he would craft in Mahal's Forge and the prayer he would burn in Lukhudel's Fire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ceremonial Garb

**Author's Note:**

> Based in the "[Life Under the Mountain for Bilbo Baggins](../series/58529)" and takes place after Everything, essentially, and is most likely going to be an AU of an AU, but I wanted something happy, so I wrote something happy! (Yes, shocking, I know, but I wanted happy for this, so I wrote it!)
> 
> Also, please accept this late Christmas present. I have had no time to type anything up, really, so I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Also, I did my best to make up a holiday for the Dwarves that wasn't like Christmas.
> 
> So I made up the Festival of the Seven Fathers.
> 
> The Festival of Seven Fathers lasts seven days, one day for each of the Seven Dwarven Fathers. Each day represents one of the Seven Fathers, and each day kind-of reflects a different aspect of Dwarvish culture, something that I will go further into detail later.
> 
> However, during all Seven Days they are also celebrating Aulë and Eru. A ceremonial forge, known as Mahal's Forge, is light by "Lukhudel's Fire" (a representation of Eru's gift of a Soul) and is kept alight. Their purpose will come out in the fic.
> 
> Lukhudel means (the) light of (all) light, because I cannot figure out how to link words together to mean another thing, and that is the closest I am getting to Eru.

Thorin smiled as the soft clanking of crystals filled the air as he opened the door to the quarters he shared with his husband, taking a deep breath as he shut the door behind him, the crystals renewing their gentle music. He nearly jumped right out of skin when he suddenly felt a warm body pressing up against his side, one arm wrapped around his waist as best the owner of said arm could while the other reached up, resting against Thorin's lightly armored chest so his hand could rest, lightly, against Thorin's throat.

However, Thorin knew those arms, had felt those arms surround him every day since they had  _talked_ and he looked down at Bilbo, reaching up to carefully bury his fingers in Bilbo's soft, silky, curls. "Bilbo," he greeted warmly and Bilbo made that happy sound only he could make, a cross between a hum and a laugh, that light up his being and made his hazel eyes lighten.

Or that could just be Thorin waxing poetical over his husband.

Thorin chuckled lowly as he felt Bilbo poke him in the side, drawing him out of his musings, and he did not hesitate to lean down, pressing a kiss to Bilbo’s forehead. Bilbo let out a low whine sound and Thorin grinned before he pressed a kiss to each eyelid, each cheek, the tip of his nose and anywhere else he could reach, despite Bilbo trying to angle for a kiss on the lips, before he finally kissed Bilbo full on the mouth. Thorin couldn’t help but let out a low moan, which vibrated pleasantly against through his chest and around his mouth, most likely causing his lips to vibrate.

Thorin suspected this mainly because Bilbo let out a moan in return, slightly chapped lips parting slightly as his fingers twitched against Thorin’s neck weakly. Thorin smiled brightly at that reaction, carefully kissing back, licking once at Bilbo’s lips before he delved into tracing Bilbo’s mouth with his tongue, which was a lovely sensation, one he didn’t get as often as he liked.

Bilbo was soon burying his fingers in Thorin’s hair, tugging helplessly when Thorin began to draw back, nipping lightly at Bilbo’s lips.

Bilbo whined, mumbling something in a garbled way that said a great deal about Bilbo’s state of mind, pressing up against Thorin’s chest to kiss the corner of his mouth. Thorin immediately turned into the kiss to nip at Bilbo’s lips in return, his hands leaving Bilbo’s hair to instead lift Bilbo up, encouraging the Hobbit to wrap his legs around Thorin’s waist, which in turn forced Thorin to lean up into Bilbo’s now very demanding kisses.

Practice made perfect, and the feel of Bilbo sucking lightly on Thorin’s tongue before he practically licked his way into Thorin’s mouth spoke of the many hours of willing practice Thorin had engaged in with Bilbo.

Thorin hummed happily before he parted from Bilbo, which had the Hobbit huffing lightly, trying to draw him into another kiss, only for Thorin to twist to the side, pressing a kiss to Bilbo’s jawbone. “No, my Consort,” Thorin scolded lightly, his lips brushing against Bilbo’s cheek, which had the Hobbit shivering pleasantly in Thorin’s grip.

“Darlin’, look at me,” Bilbo slurred out as he tried to get Thorin to look up at him, mainly by tugging on Thorin’s hair.

Thorin groaned lowly at the little tugs in his hair and looked up at Bilbo. “Sorry my Hobbit,” he apologized and Bilbo pressed a kiss to Thorin’s forehead.

Holding onto him, Thorin headed to the sofa and settled there, smiling as he pulled Bilbo down more on top of his chest. He reached up to trap some of those so very soft curls in his hands again, Bilbo happily leaning into the attention, kissing Thorin once more.

This was Bilbo’s favorite thing to do and Thorin, while sometimes frustrated, he enjoyed it just as much as Bilbo was usually the one instigating their kisses. He hummed happily and Bilbo wiggled happily, fingers burying themselves in Thorin’s hair once more, when a knock on the door caused Thorin to break the kiss with an irritated growl. Bilbo frowned at the kiss being broken, but Thorin instead just pointed up to the crystals that hung above in their silver wire frames.

Bilbo frowned at that and sighed before he let Thorin up, obviously pouting. Thorin couldn’t help but lean forward to press a gentle kiss to that pout before he pulled away, mentally admiring the Dwarven coat of heavy blue trimmed in white fur that Bilbo wore. He pressed another kiss to Bilbo’s far temple before he headed to the door, where the knocking was growing in ferocity.

“Balin,” Thorin grumbled when he saw his friend standing there.

While a great deal of his problems could have been avoided by Balin just being honest with him, it was not Balin’s fault. “Thorin,” Balin returned, smiling up at Thorin in a manner more befitting a cat sneaking up on a canary with clipped wings in a birdcage than his friend.

“Thorin, the Festival of the Seven Fathers?” Balin asked and Thorin resisted the urge to huff in annoyance.

“That’s tomorrow,” Thorin stated.

“Yes, but tonight is the night Mahal’s Forge is light with Lukhudel's Fire,” Balin responded and Thorin wondered if he could get away with not going before he remembered the weight of the crown on his head (more figurative than literal as he had spent the day not wearing said crown) and he sighed.

“We’ll be ready in an hour,” Thorin promised and Balin nodded before he walked away.

Thorin sighed and shut the door and turned, only to jump slightly to find Bilbo standing there, waiting for him. Thorin smiled slightly and tugged at Bilbo’s coat before he signed, _“We have to go to a ceremony.”_

Bilbo sighed, loudly, at that and then he slipped away, ghosting across the stone floor soundlessly. Thorin smiled after him before he walked after his husband, mostly so he could spend time in his husband’s presence, though also to get into his own ceremonial garb, as well as help Bilbo find out which he was supposed to wear.

And, quite possibly, distract Bilbo with kisses.


	2. Lighting Lukhudel's Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minor spoilers for "Life is What You Make of It"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY 2014!!
> 
> Anyway...
> 
> Kurdel = (the) heart of (all) hearts

Thorin smiled as he adjusted Bilbo's deep burgundy coat with the gold brocade so it lay flat on the Hobbit's shoulders, even as Bilbo did the same with Thorin's matching coat's lapels, twitching them slightly so they lay flat. The pale brown fur trim that lined their collars and cuffs was from a wolf, supposedly, but as it was a gift from the Ironhills, Bilbo had said they would take what was said at face value. Thorin thought he should at least question his cousin, Dáin, about the nature of the gift in private, but Bilbo had frowned at the suggestion, which had led to a two hour long conversation with Bilbo about the different meanings gifts had in their cultures.

Thorin chuckled softly at the memory, even as his hands left Bilbo's shoulders to gently catch Bilbo's hands as they pulled away from his lapels, carefully pressing Bilbo's hands to his heart, ducking his head slightly to press a kiss to Bilbo's fingertips, which had Bilbo making another one of those happy sounds. "Kurdel," Thorin murmured softly as he pressed a kiss to Bilbo's fingertips again.

A knock on the door echoed through their chambers and Thorin let out a long, gusting sigh at the interruption which had Bilbo's laughter, loud and bright, curling through the air.

*~*~*

The walk to the ceremonial forge was long and as quiet as it could be with the distant rumble of Dwarves singing mixing with the heavy tread of four Dwarves. If it were not for the hands wrapped snuggly around Thorin’s right elbow, and his left hand over those hands, he would think Bilbo had disappeared somehow, for he was not even as loud as a whisper of breeze. “Maybe I should have bells sewn onto all of your clothes so everyone can hear you,” Thorin teased lightly, and Bilbo, most likely having sensed Thorin speaking in some way Thorin could not even begin to fathom, shot Thorin a look that said he would be signing that later.

Thorin smiled warmly and ran his thumb along Bilbo’s knuckles in response to that look, though the smile fell away when he saw that they were approaching the ceremonial forge. Another bend and Thorin was stepping out onto the Royal Balcony that oversaw Mahal’s Forge, the special preparations for “Lukhudel's Fire” already well underway.

Bilbo leaned forward curiously, and Thorin stepped up behind him so he could reach around his husband to gesture, though having to do it backwards was rather difficult, it was something he had managed in the last week.

_“This is Mahal’s Forge, a ceremonial replica of what the forges Mahal forged the Seven Fathers and the Six Wives into being in. The fire is Lukhudel's Fire, or the Gift of a Soul, of Free Will, that Lukhudel gave to the Dwarves, adopting us Dwarves as his own…supposedly.”_

_“Elves are the First Born your foot?”_ Bilbo signed back almost cheekily.

Thorin chuckled and ducked his head down to nudge his forehead against the back of Bilbo’s head, earning another one of those special happy sounds, though it could barely be heard over the cacophony that was starting to rise from below. “Why are we here again?” Thorin asked lowly to Balin, mentally noting the page boys that sat at either end of the balcony, as well as where Dwalin and Bifur had taken their stand.

Bifur sometimes still watched Thorin in a manner that Thorin equated to being expected to screw up so horribly that Bilbo would move to the other side of the mountain (again) and live with the Ravens (again), who would let him because all the Ravens, even the oldest of Ravens that Thorin was pretty sure hated everyone on principle alone, at least liked Bilbo more than they liked Thorin, and, Thorin was sure, most downright adored Bilbo, for whatever reason that Thorin still hadn’t figured out.

Thorin was willing to bet, however, that at least some of the Ravens outright adored Bilbo to the point that they would do anything Bilbo asked of them, even if it meant flying through a snowstorm to the deadly North to face a fire-drake and bring back one of its scales.

Thorin looked down when the felt an elbow nudge at his armored chest and he looked to where Bilbo was pointing, which was at the large fire pit in the middle of the circular ceremonial room. Thorin chuckled and carefully clasped Bilbo’s wrist to pull his hand back before Thorin signed his answer. _“That is where Lukhudel’s Fire will be kept. It needs a special place, for it is light this night and then kept alight throughout the Festival, carefully allowed to die a natural death after the final night of the festival. Every year, Dwarves bet on how long it will take to burn out. From Lukhudel’s Fire one of the seven sections of Mahal’s Forge are light a day for the run of the Festival and are kept alight during that time to either make items for next year’s Festival or to craft thanks.”_

 _“Thanks?”_ Bilbo gestured back.

 _“In a way. Usually it is a symbolic representation of what one is most thankful for, or to ask for forgiveness for some grievous wrong, or to offer thanks to Mahal for a good year,”_ Thorin answered, though a frown pulled at his cheeks.

Bilbo sighed happily at that and snuggled back into Thorin, and soon he was asking about the seven different balconies he could see, which each oversaw a different section of Mahal’s Forge. Thorin smiled and pressed a kiss to Bilbo’s hair before he answered.

_“Each is a representation of a different Father. One of the nobles is lucky enough to stand at each one, but in my case, I am the one to represent Durin’s Folk, at least within Erebor. Were I elsewhere, I would not be here, but at one of the other places, even if my Clan’s forge was to be light first.”_

_“Why?”_ Bilbo questioned.

 _“It will be easier to explain in depth once back to our chambers, but it is mostly due to the fact Durin is considered the oldest and wisest of all the Dwarven Fathers,”_ Thorin gestured.

 _“So…what did you get from him again?”_ Bilbo asked and Thorin grabbed at his husband with a low chuckle, smiling as he held Bilbo close, burying his nose into the crook of his Hobbit’s neck, the only ticklish spot he could reach through all their layers.

Bilbo was snorting inelegantly, trying, in vain, to bat him away and it was only Balin pointedly clearing his throat that had them separating, Thorin running soothing hands over Bilbo’s arms to help him calm, even as he looked over at Balin. Balin inclined his head and Thorin looked down to find the head of the Blacksmith’s Guild, Finnur, smiling up at them. “Sire, we’re ready to light the fire,” he stated and Thorin nodded before he carefully guided Bilbo to his proper spot, Bilbo blushing as he settled back at Thorin’s right side.

“Thank you Finnur. Please send word for the doors to open,” he responded and Finnur nodded cheerfully, brown hair flying wild around his face before he turned, bellowing out commands across the ceremonial hall.

Thorin smiled as he carefully wrapped an arm around Bilbo’s waist, gently pulling him to his side as the noble and invited Dwarves of Erebor filled the seats below the balconies, though a few of the Council stepped out onto the Balconies. Glittering caught Thorin’s eye and he looked over in time to watch the Head of the Courtesan’s Guild, Sannhild, step up to the railing of the Ironfist balcony, like she did every year after she had become Head of the Courtesan’s Guild. This year, however, it was not the way the firelight caught strategically placed gems, or the way her hair and beard gleamed that had the gallery below whispering this year, but the harsh scarring that covered half her face, even slicing through some of her beard.

Thorin glanced down when he felt Bilbo shift and saw the Hobbit gesturing, subtly, to someone. Following his Hobbit's gaze he was surprised to find Sannhild gesturing back, before Thorin carefully reached out and stopped Bilbo mid-gesture. Bilbo looked up at him with wide eyes, almost comical except Thorin didn’t particularly like it whenever Bilbo began to worry about upsetting Thorin, as if upsetting Thorin would mean the Shire being burned, or worse.

 _“It is almost time for the ceremony to begin,”_ Thorin gestured and Bilbo nodded.

Thorin managed not to smile as Bilbo pressed closer to him, curiosity practically pouring off of him in waves. Thorin felt his thumb rubbing idly in a soothing fashion against Bilbo’s lower back in response to Bilbo pressing closer and Bilbo curled closer, even as the drumbeats started.

Bilbo perked up at that, leaning forward slightly, most likely in hopes to _not_ make it look like he was leaning forward, and Thorin tightened his grip on Bilbo’s waist slightly, though Bilbo didn’t seem to notice the tightening, to keep Bilbo at his side.

Below, seven Dwarves walked out of the shadows dressed in hooded cloaks to hide their identities, facing towards where Lukhudel's Fire would be light. He felt Bilbo twitch, his head tilting to the left in that way that meant he was putting a puzzle together as the Dwarf representing Durin drifted forward in a manner that was all Fíli, pulling a pair of black swords out of the shadows near where he came to a stop. He gave a proper ceremonial bow and then began to do the traditional Dance of the Swords of Durin.

Thorin felt Bilbo tense at the beginning before he slowly relaxed as the form continued to spin and dance. For a brief moment, the Dwarf paused and Thorin leaned forward slightly, watching closely, knowing from both personal and voyeur experience what would happen next. The Dwarf then twisted and with a downward slice, the blades blazed with mithril white bright (made so with chemicals, not heat) fire, and Bilbo let out a tiny gasp as he jumped slightly.

From there, the dance picked up speed as the Dwarf, who was most definitely Fíli (which Thorin would have known even if Thorin himself hadn’t picked Fíli himself six months before Bilbo became Thorin’s husband for the part, as he knew his nephew’s fighting style better than he knew his own). Fíli began to spin faster, his swords blazing through the air as if the wielder was trying to set the very air around him on fire, Bilbo tensing more every second that passed. With a cry, loud and echoing throughout Mahal’s Forge, the Dwarf spun the swords around in his hands, two circles of light almost catching his hood, as he jumped up. As he landed, he drove the swords into the center of the specially crafted ‘star’ on the ground, the first of seven, and backed away gracefully.

A breath of time and Bilbo jumped as the star, briefly, blazed mithril white, before it settled into orange, crackling merrily away as the Dwarf to represent Durin went down on one knee, fist over his heart, towards the blazing star on the floor.

Bilbo was panting next to him and he tensed all over again as the next Dwarf, this one pulling out two staves from the shadows, began the Dance of the Staves of Telphor. Bilbo tensed further and further as the Dance continued.

The twists and turns were sharp, determined, and spoke of the steady patience the Broadbeam clan was known for, defenders to the last, and the most fearsome of protectors. They loved purely and rarely, their strength coming from their foundations and when the pale silvery fire erupted along the staves, Thorin is pretty sure the only reason Bilbo doesn’t let out a cry is because he’s too tense to.

The spinning takes a dangerous turn then, the bright staves nearly catching the Dwarf’s robes twice before the Dwarf was kneeling, the staves laying across the special Broadbeam star, and then he was pulling back, falling to one knee, first over his heart as the star blazed briefly in the pale silver and, in a manner far faster than Durin’s fire, became a friendly orange.

Bilbo relaxed against Thorin, briefly, trembling slightly, before he tensed all over as the Dance of the Warhammer of Bighâl began.

The warhammer began to spin above the Dwarf’s head, twisting down and in circles. Each swing of the warhammer had sparks flying up from each swing when it struck the ground. On the tenth such swing, the hammer part blazed with golden fire and Bilbo tensed even further as the dance got wilder. Reveling in the fiery tempers of the Firebeard Clan, the blazing warhammer came all the closer to setting the Dwarf on fire. Of all the stars, the Firebeard star was the one that didn’t seem as large, the reason why coming into being as the Dwarf swung the warhammer around, slamming into the center, opening the star to the size of the others around, the fire sparking golden before it, slowly, burning orange, the Dwarf representing Bighâl bowed as the two before him did.

Bilbo twitched slightly as the fourth Dwarf walked forward, drawing the axes from the shadows. He stood, stiff, yet ready to move and with a gusting sigh, he began the Dances of the Axes of Thûlin. This dance, while similar to the rest in being like molten metal in movement being poured into a mold, was more controlled. Bilbo relaxed further as the Dwarf went through the movements, putting position and precision over speed as he moved, the axes catching the light dully as he continued to move. Twisting and slicing through the air, with the same cutting downward motion as the three dances previous, they blazed with silver fire. The edges just burned, instead of the entire blades, the first leaving longer arcs through the air, as this was more dangerous, with the heat of the fire being higher than the others to create the silver needed for this dance. Each turn, each spin, and each slice was made to insure that no fire touched the cloak, not even close, or otherwise the Dwarf would get burned, badly.

It was not always done properly and Thorin, keenly, remembered the one year someone had mistepped and the ceremony had to be restarted as the Dwarf was taken away from burns, the interruption meaning that it had to start again, but this Dance was flawless. Each twist and turn, each moment, blazed through the air. It was with a ringing clang that the axes were buried into the Stiffbeard Clan’s star, the silver burning hot, before eventually becoming a clear orange color, the Dwarf on one knee before the star, fist over heart.

Thorin bit back a chuckle as Bilbo gripped at his torso as the fifth Dwarf rushed out of the shadows with purpose to begin the Dance of the Flails of Sindri, the flails entering said Dwarf’s hands almost on a suggestion over action.

The moment the handles of the flails were settled in his palms, they began to spin, the metal balls coated in spikes flying dangerously close to the Dwarf’s hood. Each twist and turn, the Dwarf brought the flails close and the threat of injury was just as close, right until that pause, that breath, and then they blazed with a coopery fire, which had Bilbo twitching against Thorin’s side. Now the flails began to spin faster, wilder, and with more power, fierce and dangerous. Ironfists were not known for their mercy, but for their quick action in the face of treachery, and then the flails were being swung, landing in the star, blazing brilliantly as the Dwarf knelt on one knee, fist over heart once more.

The sixth Dwarf didn’t help anything, doing the Dance of the Bow of Vigdi. The dance was faster than the others, unencumbered as the Dwarf was by twisting a large weapon with him, or her, twisting and turning, the bow spinning with them, the quiver doing little to halt their movements, or make them stiff. The Dwarf moved faster and faster, until the Dwarf drew an arrow from the quiver resting on their back, turning further as they did that pause, took that breath, and then the arrowhead blazed in a glorious dark cherry red, like the way iron should look in the forge before working with it.

The choice of a bow might seem odd, but the Stonefoot Clan was sharp and decisive, as well as the best at stepping back to view the situation. To aim and possibly take a shot that no one else would see, the arrow blazing through the air without being fired. Suddenly the Dwarf turned, was on one knee, and he released the arrow, having it fly through the air before it buried itself into the sixth star, the bow arm falling to the side to rest on the ground, still clutching the bow, before his fist came up to rest over his heart, and he waited.

The seventh Dwarf began the Dance of the Knives of Var immediately. Bilbo was practically knotted, tense muscles made of stone, and Thorin nearly winced in sympathy. Maybe he could convince Bilbo to join him for a very hot bath later and massage what would be his very sore muscle and…those were bad thoughts to indulge in while a very important ceremonial dance was going on before him.

The blaze of bronzed fire danced through the air, the fire flicking dangerously close to the loose sleeves of the cloak. Each dangerous flicker had Bilbo clutching at Thorin’s clothing tighter, most likely wrinkling it beyond recognition as the dance continued, getting wilder and wilder as the Dwarf moved, rapid and strength, for the Blacklock Clan was always one to strike from the shadows. Their honor, their views, were not fully in line with the rest of the Dwarves, but they were fierce. They were protective and family bound, took their oaths to the grave in seriousness, but were never above bending a rule or twenty to the breaking point.

The knives were then in the star, kneeling as the other six before him, the fire blazing orange as they burned. The drums, a constant background noise, picked up speed and Bilbo twitched at that, before they were a sound like a gong above, echoing around the ceremonial forge, vibrating through the air. For a moment, there was stillness, and then the fire roared with a whoosh, which caused Bilbo to practically jump out of his skin.

Thorin tightened his grip on Bilbo as Lukhudel's Fire reached for the ceiling and Thorin rubbed Bilbo’s side and lower back as the fire began to slowly lower from the furious blaze it had been not even minutes before. Those in charge of taking care of the Fire for this Festival already rushing out to insure it remained at the proper temperature as the seven Dwarves stood, turned to those that chose them and bowed once more before disappearing into the shadows from whence they came.

At the end of the Festival, at the final dance, they would reveal themselves to the citizens of Erebor, and Thorin , seeing everyone drifting away, finally chanced a glance at Bilbo. Instead of seeing a frightened, trembling, Bilbo (though, yes, he was still trembling, Thorin did not think it was from fear) who was a bit overwhelmed, there was his husband, staring out at the fire with a look of awe on his face. Staring a bit longer, Thorin was able to further discover that there was not even the slightest trace of fear on Bilbo's face but just a look that Thorin would classify as awe filled surprise, and maybe some joy, on Bilbo’s face.

Thorin stared down at Bilbo, drinking in the sight of his husband’s surprised awe long enough to have Bilbo look up at Thorin, frowning slightly as Thorin just continued to stare, forehead creased right above his nose. Thorin chuckled lightly and reached up with his left hand, running a thumb along that crease.

Bilbo smiled at that, though it was touched with confusion when Thorin let his hand drop. With a gentle smile, Thorin gently took Bilbo’s hand in his and, with deliberate gentleness, cautious for the soft hand held in his own heavily calloused ones, Thorin drew Bilbo’s hand up to Thorin’s face.

Thorin smiled brighter, warmer, when he saw that blush over Bilbo’s cheeks, which only intensified as Thorin stared unwavering into Bilbo’s eyes. Without breaking contact, Thorin turned his head enough to press a gentle kiss in the center of Bilbo’s palm. Bilbo’s fingers twitched against his cheek and that smile, that rare, soul deep, moon bright, happy smile, crossed Bilbo’s face, softening Bilbo’s face further, causing his eyes to lighten.

It was as gentle and perfect as a fine glass figurine and, like that glass figurine, ultimately fragile to the point where the wrong move could shatter it into a thousand pieces, far beyond anyone’s ability to repair.

It was in that moment that Thorin had the sudden clarity of what, exactly, he would craft in Mahal’s Forge this Festival, as well as what prayer he would burn in Lukhudel's Fire.

Thorin smiled as he, carefully, broke eye contact to lean forward and press a lingering kiss to Bilbo’s forehead, right on his hairline.

Bilbo reached up to between them with his free hand, the other still in Thorin’s gentle grip, and held on tight to Thorin’s lapels.

It was some time before they parted, heading back to their quarters, the pair pausing only long enough for Thorin to scoop Bilbo up into his arms when the Hobbit started to lag. Bilbo, upon being lifted up, let out a soft sound that was neither happy nor sad as he wrapped his arms loosely around Thorin’s shoulders and pressed his forehead against the side of Thorin’s neck.

They stayed that way until they had to part to get ready for bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any questions will be answered as best as I can answer without spoiling this part, or the story that is before this.


	3. Mithril Day of Wisdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aka The First Day of the Festival of Seven Fathers, in Honor of Durin, the First and Wisest of the Seven Fathers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. In all honesty, it was because I got distracted by everything else I was writing.
> 
> Well that, and I was also finishing my 27 chapters long Hobbit Big Bang fic (which will start being posted on May 10th and finished on May 23rd).

Thorin twitched awake as he heard the chiming of the crystals above his head. They had been placed there after they had decided it would be best if, unofficially, Bilbo had a different bedroom than Thorin, though those nights were slowly dwindling as Bilbo joined Thorin more often in their room. But they had learned after the first time Bilbo had entered the room without falling asleep in the room with Thorin.

The first time that Thorin would do anything to keep from repeating.

That first morning that had almost lead to Bilbo getting a broken collar bone and a dislocated jaw in addition to the injuries Bilbo _had_ sustained (a great deal of bruises and a mild concussion) when Thorin had awoken already attacking before he realized _whom_ he was attacking.

He still hadn’t forgiven himself for that.

Another chime above brought him out of his thoughts and Thorin frowned, even as he shifted. Last night had been one of the nights Bilbo had spent with Thorin, so Thorin was confused as to why he was hearing chimes.

He reached for the spot his husband should be in, only to meet with warm sheets. He looked around the room as he sat up and stilled when he saw his husband standing on the trunk at the foot of the bed, staring at him with wide, innocent fawn-like eyes, reaching above his hand for the fine chain above his head that connected the crystals to each other throughout their chambers. Thorin leaned back on his elbows and stared at his husband, who was slowly lowering his arm.

Moving until he could sit against the headboard, he immediately gestured to Bilbo. _“Come down here. I promised to explain the Festival to you.”_

Bilbo immediately beamed and hopped down from the trunk before he rushed to Thorin’s side. Thorin made a sound as Bilbo hopped _onto_ him, easily straddling his stomach, knees nudging against Thorin’s ribcage as he smiled down at the Dwarf. Thorin chuckled as he reached up to cradle Bilbo’s head gently in his hands, fingers brushing against the shells of Bilbo’s ears.

Bilbo shivered in a way Thorin just _knew_ he would have to investigate later, and leaned forward to brush a kiss against Bilbo’s lips. Bilbo leaned into kiss, gripping Thorin’s sleeping tunic tight in both hands as he deepened it before he pulled back and rested his forehead against Thorin’s.

Thorin let out a low sigh and closed his eyes, shifting his head to nuzzle against his husband’s temple when Bilbo asked, in that thick voice of his that made Thorin smile even when Bilbo used it to scold him, “Are you going to explain the Festival or not?”

Thorin chuckled and slowly settled back into the reclining position he adopted before Bilbo had climbed onto him. He ran his thumbs along Bilbo’s cheekbones and then drew his hands back. _“The Festival is the celebration of the Seven Fathers of the Seven Clans of the Dwarves. Of the Seven, the other Six rested in the mountains where they began their Kingdoms with their wives, the Eldest of the Dwarven Fathers, Durin, woke alone. He found his Wife in another. In the Festival, he is represented by the Mithril Sword of Wisdom. It is at his forge the rare metal of mithril is used, for it is the rarest and purest of the metals the Dwarves has found. He is represented with a Sword purely because it is one of the few weapons that everyone agrees he wielded. That and a majority of the Dwarves of Durin’s Line learn the art of the sword first,”_ Thorin gestured and Bilbo smiled before he prodded at Thorin’s chest.

 _“What does today entail then?”_ Bilbo gestured in return.

 _“Well, we will have breakfast, and then we will go down to see the first of the Seven Forges light. There, people will craft things to represent Wisdom. In the olden days, it would be just mithril items, but as most of the mithril are family heirlooms and no veins of it have been found in Erebor, we have not upheld that tradition and now any metal can be used, but it must represent something to do with Wisdom,”_ Thorin explained, even as Bilbo’s head twitched to the side.

He then grinned. _“So…how many items will you have to craft to gain the wisdom of your forefathers?”_ Bilbo gestured.

“Why you…” Thorin growled playfully and immediately began to attack Bilbo’s sides.

Bilbo immediately tried to squirm away, letting out gasping laughter as he tried to escape Thorin’s fingers as he continued to run them up Bilbo’s sides. He squealed and flailed and was soon on the bed, Thorin immediately turned to cover his husband, fingers relentless in finding every ticklish spot on his husband. Bilbo was squealing and laughing, trying to wiggle away until he nearly fell off the bed.

Thorin immediately grabbed onto his husband, keeping him from falling, and hauled his gasping husband up to rest against his chest. Bilbo continued to giggle for a few more moments before he slowly sat up to smile down at Thorin and the Dwarf reached up to gently run his fingers along the Marriage Braid, slowly leaning up to nudge his forehead against Bilbo’s, smiling as Bilbo nudged back before he shifted to press a chaste kiss to Thorin’s lips.

Then another kiss followed by another and soon it was very much not chaste. Thorin probably would have continued further, except the chiming of crystals throughout their quarters caused him the groan and flop back, pointing up when Bilbo stared at him in confusion.

Bilbo’s laughter was completely undeserved.

Thorin’s reaction in dumping his husband on the bed was not.

*~*~*

Bilbo frowned a bit as he tugged at the blue cloth, ignoring the way the threads to create Durin’s Symbol and Bilbo’s Sigil (apparently being Consort allowed him to have one, but he didn’t bother to create one until Dís and Ori forced him to make one) had been created to make it gleam like mithril.

He understood why _now_ of course, but not when they were being made. He hadn’t bothered to ask then, just accepted that seven new sets of clothes were going to be made for him and…

Bilbo felt as if his throat was shredded as the sound, probably a yelp, ripped out of his lips when hands came to rest on his waist. He did not hesitate to turn around and smack Thorin more than a few times, even as his husband, most likely, apologized. He glared a bit and Thorin leaned in, reaching behind Bilbo to tap at the mirror Bilbo had been mindlessly standing in front of.

“Shouldn’t assume,” Bilbo mumbled, but he doubted Thorin understood.

Though he felt Thorin’s apology in the way he carefully encourage Bilbo to look up so he could gesture at Bilbo in Iglishmêk before Bilbo sighed, standing on tip-toe to nudge Thorin’s forehead. He smiled when he felt Thorin nudge back, his rather large nose rubbing against Bilbo’s much smaller one. When he felt the gusting sigh brush across his lips and cheeks, he couldn’t help but laugh once more.

He had a feeling Thorin was sighing over the crystals moving.

Opening his eyes, he glanced up and laughed all the harder when he saw that he was right.

*~*~*

Thorin ran his fingers over the small chunk of mithril in his pocket that had come from the inheritance his mother left him, wondering what he should make to represent the Promise for the Wisdom to keep from repeating the mistakes of the past. It could not be something big, but it would have to be an item of worth, worthy of reminding Thorin what wisdom he should carry with him.

He knew it also couldn’t be something of his, in a manner of speaking. No, the article of wisdom had to be something he would see and upon seeing, remember his promise, and Thorin had a horrible habit of being blind to his own adornments. He jumped a bit when he felt fingers touch the back of his hand and he turned to look at Bilbo, his eyes immediately landing on his husband’s bare ear.

Bilbo had explained that he couldn’t wear earrings, a Hobbit’s ears too sensitive to accept the piercings. It was highly likely he would be harmed but maybe…maybe a cuff would do. “Thorin?” Bilbo questioned, slurring a bit.

Thorin merely leaned over and pressed a kiss to his husband’s curls, ignoring the sounds of distress that came from his youngest nephew at the display. “My perfect, wonderful, husband,” Thorin stated and Bilbo made a disgruntled sound at not knowing what Thorin said.

Thorin merely nuzzled Bilbo’s curls, resisting the urge to trace over the marriage braid with his nose, before he sat up normally, translating what he said into Iglishmêk. Bilbo immediately blushed and turned away, Thorin mentally calculating the size mold he would have to use for a full ear cuff that would not aggravate his husband’s ear, hopefully.

*~*~*

 _“That’s it?”_ Bilbo gestured as he watched the hooded Dwarf from the night before pick up a torch from Lukhudel's Fire and carried it to Durin’s Forge, the light flaring briefly before it began to burn brightly.

Thorin resisted the urge to chuckle, practically _seeing_ the skepticism in his husband’s gestures. He chuckled as he nuzzled into his husband’s hair, inhaling that unique scent that was Bilbo as he lifted his hands and gestured back, _“That’s it.”_

 _“All that dancing and twirling and shearing **years** off my life for this?”_ he asked, keeping his hands close so no one would notice his gestures and Thorin laughed softly as he carefully curled his hands over Bilbo’s.

He then gave an affirmative gesture before he stepped back. Bilbo turned to face him, staring up at him with warm eyes and Thorin smiled. _“Will you remain here?”_ Thorin gestured and Bilbo shook his head.

 _“I can’t forge. I would just get in the way. I thought I would go visit Gentleheart, than Dori,”_ Bilbo responded and Thorin felt himself pale at the idea.

Bilbo knowing and getting along with Dori was only slightly worse than Bilbo knowing and getting along with his sister. Combined, Bilbo would know every horrific and embaressing moment of his life.

Bilbo chuckled before he leaned up and pressed a kiss on Thorin’s nose. “Be careful,” Bilbo slurred and Thorin smiled at him as he nodded.

The Hobbit immediately settled back on his feet and turned, walking away, Bifur close at his right shoulder. Thorin watched his husband walk away before he turned toward the stairway that lead into Mahal’s Forge and began walking down. “You may go Dwalin,” Thorin called over his shoulder.

“I’d rather stay and see what yer goin’ to be making, if it is all the same to you,” Dwalin retorted and Thorin ignored him.

Instead, he removed his outer ceremonial garb, hung it in the spot of royalty and headed to the forge, the piece of mithril against his palm, hoping that the old ear cuff molds for Elves were still around.

*~*~*

Thorin ignored Dwalin as he filed down the last of the rough edges and traced the mithril cuffs of flowers and leaves. The mold he had cast them from had been amongst the bottom, the most covered in dust and the one needing the most cleaning.

Now, looking at them, Thorin was content to believe the mold was _made_ for Bilbo, and he could only hope this wouldn’t backfire. If nothing else, the curl of them would allow it to be used for clothing decoration, and Thorin let out a low sigh, even as the Evening Bell tolled above his head. “Thorin, yer going to be needing to give those today,” Dwalin reminded him and Thorin nodded.

He slowly stood up, holding the pair of ear cuffs in one hand before he carefully walked over, settling them into the pocket of his most formal outerwear, wiping the soot and sweat off as best he could before he tugged it on.

He did not question the fact he had two when he had thought he would barely have enough mithril for one, and instead focused on getting presentable enough to go to dinner with his husband.

Behind him, he heard those in charge of turning down the Forge of Durin begin their work. He never noticed that none put away the molds, which had disappeared from the spot next to the forge.

*~*~*

Bilbo rose to meet him when he walked into their private dining room, frowning and smiling all at once. Thorin smiled in return and gently nudged his forehead against Bilbo’s feeling Bilbo return the gesture.

Bilbo, already having shucked off his fine garments for the comfortable ones of daily wear, though Thorin was sure his Hobbit would disagree. He knew Bilbo didn’t like the fact he had a sigil, to mark him as royalty embroidered onto every article of clothing, the Symbol of Durin behind it to say, exactly, who he was. The Consort of Erebor and Thorin nudged his forehead against Bilbo’s again.

“Thorin?” Bilbo questioned softly and Thorin gently guided Bilbo to sit back down.

 _“Would you allow me to place ear cuffs on your ears?”_ Thorin gestured and Bilbo’s hands immediately nervously flew to his ears.

 _“Not piercing and they’re made of mithril. Light as a feather. Maybe that means they won’t pain you,”_ Thorin gestured quickly and Bilbo, slowly, lowered his hands before he nodded carefully.

Thorin smiled and knelt down in front of his husband. He quickly brought the ear cuffs out and had Bilbo hold the one for the right ear, so he could see it, before he reached up for the left ear. The slight flinch made Thorin flinch as well, pausing in his movements until Bilbo nodded again.

Permission received once more, Thorin carefully hooked the top flower around the tip of Bilbo’s ear, hoping the shiver was a pleasant one, before he carefully insured it hooked around the shell before coming to rest against the earlobe. He pulled away and, at Bilbo’s nod, repeated the process for the right ear.

He watched as Bilbo shook his head a bit, frowning, before he reached up to run his fingers along the metal. Bilbo then smiled brightly at him. _“I can barely feel them!”_ Bilbo gestured and Thorin let out a sigh of relief.

 _“We’ll see if they can stay on longer tomorrow. For now, I am famished. May we have dinner now, Husband Mine?”_ Thorin responded.

 _“We may, my husband,”_ Bilbo answered, his gestures practically bright and Thorin stood, relieved.

By the time they got ready for bed, Bilbo’s ears were perfectly unaltered, and Thorin could only hope Bilbo would want to wear them tomorrow.

“Thorin?” Bilbo mumbled as he nuzzled into Thorin’s chest, close to sleep.

Thorin tapped his fingers against Bilbo’s upper arm to show he was listening. “Are they your Wisdom thanks?” Bilbo questioned and Thorin carefully urged Bilbo to look at him.

He looked adorable, so close to sleep, yet not. _“No. They are my Wisdom promises,”_ Thorin gestured.

Bilbo frowned, and Thorin leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead. _“I’ll explain tomorrow,”_ Thorin promised, his hands sagging and Bilbo yawned as he nodded, snuggling back down.

Thorin wrapped one arm loosely around Bilbo’s waist and with a sigh, passed out.

It had been a _long_ day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Much. Magic.
> 
> Specifically, there is a magic in this forge that only lasts these Seven Days and allows every Dwarf, who decides to, to complete their Promise, or Prayer (or Thanks or whatever they call it) in that day. I know enough about forging to know that what Thorin made should have probably taken him a few days, but...magic.
> 
> Special magic that only works at a specific time of the year. And only partially because of the ceremony when they light the fire.
> 
> ...I'm done.
> 
> Also, I skipped the forging part because I was not going there. I don't know nearly enough to even try and attempt that. I know enough that I won't screw up horrifically, but not enough to actually show Thorin going through the process. And this won't be repeated for the next few "days"; after this I will go with Bilbo after Thorin figures out what to make that day, the exception being Day Five, but why is a secret.
> 
> So....yay!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> I know I stayed up till my 2:30 am enjoying writing it. (I'll probably read it tomorrow and wonder where my brain was, but que sera sera.)


	4. Platinum Day of Persistence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aka The Second Day of the Festival of Seven Fathers, in Honor of Telphor, the Second and Most Persistent of the Seven Fathers

Thorin awoke with a start, feeling as if he was trying to fight only his muscles were locked and he couldn't move and…

There was a soft chiming filling his ears. He took a shaky breath and blinked awake to find the crystals chiming above his head. He slowly shifted, wincing at the way he had soaked the bedding through with sweat and sat up to find his husband standing on the trunk once more, tapping the chain as he watched him, forehead furrowed. He panted softly as he settled back and watched as Bilbo slowly stepped back onto the bed before he knelt down, shuffling back over to Thorin’s side.

Thorin reached up, hands trembling, to bury them in Bilbo’s hair, letting out a whooshing sigh as the softness there. He could feel the heat rising up from his skull and his thumb was resting against the, slightly mussed, marriage braid. He shifted, about to lean up, when Bilbo leaned down, gently nudging his forehead against Thorin’s.

With trembling limbs and a heart beating far too fast, Thorin shifted his grip until he could curl around his husband, shivering violently as he held Bilbo close. Bilbo just made that soft hum sound he made when he was trying to comfort vocally (despite how he hated using his voice at all) and he buried himself quiet willingly into Thorin’s grasping embrace.

*~*~*

It was a while before Thorin calmed down enough that he could release Bilbo, who had spent the time being held like a stuffed toy brushing out Thorin’s hair with his fingers. Thorin had been reluctant to part, with Bilbo’s fingers running across his scalp, with his nose buried in the crook of Bilbo’s neck. His scent (which seemed to, suspiciously, be mixed with the scent of soap) was very calming and Thorin let out a long sigh when he felt Bilbo pull back, though he let him go. He looked up, surprised when Bilbo began to tug at his hands.

Thorin followed the tugs until he found that Bilbo was leading him toward the larger bathroom attached to their shared bedchamber. He raised an eyebrow when he saw there was a bath, which was somehow still warm, waiting for him.

That bath was even better in that Bilbo didn’t leave, instead joining him in the extravagant bath to help him wash out his hair. Of course, Thorin had to return the favor and if he probably enjoyed scrubbing every single spot of Bilbo’s scalp well…

It was nice having his husband slump against him, eyes closed.

Very nice.

*~*~*

Bilbo sighed as he tugged at the emerald green tunic, wondering if he could beg out before sighing heavily. No, as much as he wished to, he could not just beg off to avoid having to wear all these cruel layers lined with fur and marked with Durin’s Symbol (and Bilbo’s Sigil, as if he could forget) in platinum thread. He felt like he was being trussed up for something and he sighed before he walked over to gather up his earcuffs.

Today, due to how Thorin woke up, Bilbo had thought it best they just eat within the privacy of their chambers instead of with the others. The explanation, of course, that Bilbo gave had nothing to do with how Thorin was still shaking and entirely had to do with how this would allow them to talk about the Festival in more detail.

Sitting down across from Thorin at the small table set up in what would, one day, be a working kitchen, Bilbo placed the ear cuffs on the table and tapped them pointedly. Thorin glanced at them and smiled, even as he set his utensils to the side so he could gesture.

 _“It is not always thanks that we craft. We sometimes craft promises. Generally, it is for something for the one crafting to wear or view, but I don’t pay attention to my own adornments and I do not enjoy staring at my things. Besides, if I am in my rooms, I would rather spend time with you than observe my promises. My promise to be wiser, for one, to remember wisdom comes from listening, even when the one I am listening to does not wish to speak aloud, instead just using their hands or looks,”_ Thorin explained and Bilbo stared down at the ear cuffs with renewed awe.

He had thought them spectacular before, especially due to the fact mithril was so very rare now. He knew, back in the days before Hobbits had even considered crossing the Misty Mountains, there had been a great Dwarf kingdom, greater than Erebor, which had all the mithril, essentially. He knew that demand for the precious metal had pushed the Dwarves to dig deeper to meet those demands, and had met a terrible fate in the bowels of the mountains.

Something so terrible, which had killed at least two Kings of Durin’s Folk, two of Thorin’s ancestors. Bilbo suspected that others had been killed, but Dwarf secrecy hid who it was, and this was where Bilbo often got lost on the tales; the blame laid at the Dwarves’ feet for it made no sense.

From what he read, Dwarf histories being painfully accurate even if it was not the best of things to read (such as…well, the Gold Sickness that took Thrór, Thorin’s grandfather, before his death), Dwarves wanted to mine the metal slowly in hopes of seeing what they could mix with it in hopes of creating functional ceremonial armor, but the demand…

Bilbo knew that many farmers would try to meet the demand, even if it overtaxed their lands a bit, in hopes of getting money to settle for a lean time. Who could fault anyone for doing the same, even if it wasn’t the wisest course…

Bilbo jumped when his husband gently took his hand. Once Thorin had his attention, Bilbo flushed and gestured his apology, thankful apologies only needed one hand. Thorin squeezed Bilbo’s hand briefly before he let it go long enough to gesture, _“So long as you come back, you can wander where you wish.”_

Bilbo flushed more, feeling even his _ears_ heat up, as Thorin picked Bilbo’s hand back up. Bilbo squeezed Thorin’s hand back before he focused on his breakfast.

They finished their breakfast like that, fingers slowly intertwining until Bilbo wasn’t sure how he was supposed to get his hand back so he could enjoy his time off while his husband forged.

*~*~*

 _“What is today about?”_ Bilbo gestured as they waited for the lighting ceremony of Telphor’s forge to begin.

 _“Persistence,”_ Thorin gestured back, eyes tracing the mithril ear cuffs before he focused entirely on Bilbo’s hands, his husband settled in front of him.

 _“So you Dwarves pride yourselves on your stubbornness?”_ Bilbo gestured and Thorin bit back his laughter as he pulled Bilbo close, smiling when Bilbo easily followed his light tug.

 _“Persistence,”_ Thorin corrected and smiled as Bilbo’s laugh echoed through the air.

Nuzzling lightly into Bilbo’s neck, he was struck the idea of a necklace chain of platinum hanging down, some sort of pendant made of silver shining at the end. He hummed happily at the thought, already mentally turning over the types of leaves he would use, as well as what the pendant would look like.

While silver was not for another two days, it was never a bad idea to start having a plan, especially as he would have to greet the guests for the Fifth Day that evening. He would have to talk to Bilbo about the fifth day, but later.

For now, he pulled Bilbo close as the Forge of Telphor was light. They stood there for a time, Thorin enjoying the way that Bilbo snuggled into his embrace before they parted. Thorin needed to begin his forging of the platinum necklace and Bilbo seemed to enjoy having time off, barring any catastrophes that needed his intervention. _“We will need to converse later,”_ Thorin gestured as they pulled apart and Bilbo frowned.

 _“Anything wrong?”_ Bilbo gestured back.

 _“No. I just realized you don’t know everything about the Festival,”_ Thorin answered.

 _“If you mean the guests we will be having on the Day of Copper, I already even have our gifts in return for theirs created and guest rooms prepared. The ones near the gardens for the Elves and the ones over the Markets for the Men,”_ Bilbo gestured back and Thorin chuckled.

 _“My apologies,”_ Thorin gestured before he nudged his forehead against Bilbo’s.

Bilbo smiled and leaned up, giving him a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Forgiven,” Bilbo slurred out in Westron and then he was pulling away, the coat of brown to mix with the emerald green tunic fluttering around his ankles as he did so.

Thorin watched him go with a smile before he shook all over and headed down into the forge proper. He hung up the sleeveless overcoat of emerald green that had been made for today and headed over to gather his platinum ore from the Royal Stores, surprised to find Kíli there. “And what are you making nephew?” he inquired and Kíli jumped before he beamed up at Thorin.

“Uncle! Oh, I am crafting Thanks for my Persistence,” his nephew answered cheerfully and Thorin chuckled.

“A good thing to give thanks for,” Thorin responded as he began to work on the platinum chain.

*~*~*

Bilbo let out a sigh of relief as he tugged on simpler clothes, already preparing for a day of taking care of only the day to day running of Erebor. He tugged on the embroidered cuffs of his dark blue tunic, insuring they were lying flat, before he tugged on the vest that was printed with leaves. Once reassured that the vest was lying flat, he tugged on his simple long coat that reached his knees. He pulled a belt around his waist, the buckle his sigil when he belted it around his slightly rounded middle, closing the coat tightly. Once reassured that he was perfectly settled, he made sure the ear cuffs were still there (they were so light that Bilbo had thought they had fallen off), and turned, heading toward the receiving rooms, smiling when he saw both Ori and Bifur there.

 _“Let’s go,”_ Bilbo gestured and Ori nodded before the pair hurried off.

*~*~*

Bilbo checked over the lists of things needed for the Feast of Loyalty (in which their allies would be joining them and honestly, how could Thorin think that Bilbo, _the Consort_ , the one who basically _ran Erebor_ , wouldn’t know that), signing off on a few things, and making a reminder to actually make Elven dishes. If he had to go down to the Great Kitchens and oversee this, he would _not_ be happy and he made sure to say that in his reminder.

This was the third time he had seen Elvish dishes conspicuously absent and it would just be rude not to include them. _“I don’t think they respect your rage enough,”_ Dís gestured once the page had been sent away.

 _“Maybe I should threaten them with you instead,”_ Bilbo responded with a casual flicker of his hands as he turned to sign off on some minor trade agreements.

Seven days of rest or not, there were certain things that could not wait for later, no matter how much Bilbo would wish it.

Bilbo glanced over at Ori, who gave a nod and Bilbo nodded, letting out chuckle as one of the Ravens that flew through the open air of Erebor swooped down to land briefly on Bilbo’s shoulder. He smiled as he felt the Raven, carefully, preen his hair before he took off. _“I think it is time to ride around. After all, this is the end of Spring and the beginning of Autumn and soon we won’t have a chance. Besides, I want to see if the apple harvest is larger than last year’s. If it is, Bard shall have to bring two jugs of apple cider in addition to the barrels he agreed to bring,”_ Bilbo gestured and Bifur nodded in agreement.

Bilbo faced Dís, who waved her hand at him. _“Enjoy. I will send someone out who needs to be punished if you are needed within the mountain before you return. What time will you be back?”_ Dís answered.

 _“I should be back before Lunch. I prefer to eat here, especially as Bifur doesn’t like it if I eat with those we meet with outside of the Mountain,”_ Bilbo answered and Dís promptly began to scold him for that habit before she released him.

Bilbo was going to enjoy not having any strenuous duties for as long as he could manage it and with a tiny bow of his head to Dís, and receiving a curtsey in return (which still made him want to beg them _not_ to do that), Bilbo left for the stables.

*~*~*

Gentleheart was practically dancing as Bilbo began to braid emerald green ribbons into his mane and tail. The gelding was practically preening and Bilbo smiled as he carefully lead the gelding around. Only was he settled did Bilbo tack him up in preparation for riding to the orchards, a good half hour ride away, if the ponies behaved.

And going by how Gentleheart was side eyeing everyone, he was _not_ going to be well behaved.

Well, at least it was a beautiful day.

*~*~*

The apple harvest was, as Bilbo has suspected, larger than last years, meaning that Bard, Lord of Dale, would be bringing apple cider jugs.

 _How did you know?_ Ori translated and Bilbo beamed up at the tall, grim, Man.

 _“I am a Hobbit, Lord Bard. And, as a Hobbit, I am a natural farmer,”_ Bilbo gestured, knowing Ori would translate it properly to Westron.

When Bard granted Bilbo a rare smile, Bilbo smiled back. When he saw the group turn as one, however, he turned on his heel to find that Gentleheart had pulled up his stake and was running.

With a sigh, Bilbo began to walk after the pony who was leading the Men who worked in the orchard on a merry chase.

*~*~*

A rider was rushing to meet them as they rode forward and Bilbo halted, along with his guard (plus Ori) to wait for him. The gestures were almost too fast, but Bilbo understood.

There was a problem in the Grand Kitchens.

With a heavy sigh, Bilbo guided Gentleheart around and, with a nudge, began to head toward the stables.

It seemed they would have to learn to fear the Wrath of Bilbo before the day was out after all.

*~*~*

 _“They’ll behave, your Highness,”_ Bombur gestured and Bilbo gave a nod.

He did so hate moving Bombur, recent Second to the Private Royal Kitchens, to the Grand Kitchens, but it seemed to be the only way. The, supposedly, quiet Dwarf would get everyone working and Bilbo wouldn’t have to worry about any of their guests being insulted.

 _“The dishes for the Clans?”_ Bilbo questioned, ignoring the scandalized look some Dwarves just within his eyesight gave.

They should really expect him not to trust them if they acted like idiots when it came to the Elvish dishes. If they failed with their near allies, how could he expect them to succeed with those that were from farther afield?

 _“All in the way. The meats are being seasoned properly and all should be ready in time for the Feast of Loyalty on the Eve of the Day of Loyalty,”_ Bombur gestured and Bilbo nodded.

 _“Good job, Master Bombur. I leave you to your duties,”_ Bilbo responded and Bombur gave a bow before he wandered off, Bilbo leaving the Grand Kitchens.

He knew Bifur would stay to talk with his cousin briefly, so he paused outside the doors to review the menus with Ori. He made a few minor changes to the menu for the Men, as that had not been started yet, and he gave a nod, glancing over when he felt someone touch his elbow.

He smiled at Bifur and then glanced forward. Well, if the way his stomach felt like it was eating itself was any indication, it was time for lunch.

With a hum and a, hopefully understood, command for lunch, Bilbo headed back to the shared Royal Dining Hall.

Hopefully he wouldn’t be too late and could enjoy lunch with the rest of his in-laws.

*~*~*

Bilbo sighed as he rubbed the flannel over his hair, wrapped in a thick bathrobe that had been gifted to him on his birthday (something Bilbo _still_ wasn’t used to).

After lunch, everything had gone downhill, more or less. There had been an issue in the Guild Halls appointed to Bilbo. An issue that essentially boiled down to the fact two barrels of exotic dye had split open. Two out of three had split, which of course had those of the Mercers’ Guild practically frothing at the mouth, which did not bode well for those who had sold the barrels of dye.

As the dye had been held in storage (the dyes were going to be a gift to the Broderers’ Guild, the Weavers’ Guild, and the Clothworkers’ Guild, from the Mercers’ Guild on the last day of the Festival) that meant that they had stained more than just the floor or some undyed cloth.

They had stained _finished_ works as well. The Clothworkers’ Guild was hurrying to clean off all of these things and…it was a mess.

The madness that came from it, and Bilbo had helped to clean it up as well as work out the compensation for the damage. Since the Mercers’ Guild was, technically, at fault for this mess, and well…

Bilbo had been lenient, as the three harmed Guilds agreed it was at it should be. There was no way the Mercers’ Guild could have known those barrels would split when they looked sound right until they split.

Of course, upon returning to the chambers, Bilbo had begun to clean off his dyed skin and mostly just hoped that he hadn’t lost his ear cuffs (he hadn’t; by the Green Lady they were light). Now, clean and exhausted, he was running the flannel through his hair, feeling wrung out.

Today had been exhausting and he could only hope that Ori had food sent up or Bilbo wasn’t sure what he would do.

The light began to shift and Bilbo glanced up to find the crystals moving above. He sighed heavily and debated getting dressed before he just stood up, belting his bathrobe tighter around him. He redid the marriage braid quickly, deciding he would have Thorin redo it for him when he got back (unless he was too exhausted as well), and put the ear cuffs back on.

He stepped out, full intent on apologizing for his lack of dress, only to find Thorin pulling the little food cart in. Thorin paused upon seeing him and smiled. _“I heard about the barrel incident,”_ Thorin gestured and Bilbo chuckled as he cradled his head with his hand, suddenly very thankful he was married to his Dwarf, even if he didn’t understand why Thorin had gifted him a platinum necklace that looked like interlocked leaves.

He would treasure it, however, just like he treasured his ear cuffs.

And to show how much he treasured them, Bilbo kissed Thorin gently, smiling when Thorin returned the kiss just as gently, lips chapped from the heat of the forge sending little shivers down his spine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, platinum is a naturally occurring metal. I looked it up thousands of times before settling on this metal, because I wasn't sure if it was naturally occurring or not and I didn't want to put a "fashioned" metal in, as the idea of the festival is that _only_ natural metals used.
> 
> So much searching and double checking.
> 
> So much.
> 
> (Gold is "tomorrow", and is the only metal allowed to be mixed with other metals as gold is _really_ malleable. So very malleable.)


	5. Golden Day of Courage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aka The Third Day of the Festival of Seven Fathers, in Honor of Bighâl, the Third and Most Courageous of the Seven Fathers

Bilbo sighed into the warmth that surrounded him, fingers clenching soft fabric briefly before releasing. He felt his pillow steadily lift slightly before steadily falling and he blinked his eyes open to find he was curled up against Thorin, his head on his chest. He nuzzled into the soft cloth of Thorin's sleeping clothes and he felt Thorin's chest vibrate under his nose, causing him to pull back and rub at his nose, awake.

He frowned at Thorin, still leaning on his chest, and blinked a bit to find his husband smiling up at him, hair a messy crown spread across the pillows, and Bilbo watched as Thorin reached up. Bilbo huffed slightly as he leaned into Thorin's rough touch, closing his eyes, even as he felt Thorin's chest continue to rumble. He slowly slumped forward, Thorin’s hand shifting to rest against the back of his neck, as Bilbo carefully scooted until he could rest his head on Thorin's opposite shoulder, pressing his forehead against Thorin's neck. He was sure he looked ridiculous, climbing on top of his husband like this, but he was tired and he just wanted to trap Thorin to the bed.

While there was a festival going on, there were no…rules to it. Half of the business were still open, even if only on half day and Bilbo didn’t get an honest day off.

Thorin didn’t either, but many of his duties were focused on the protection of Erebor and the time of peace was…not necessary for it. Oh, there were rumbles from…someone, but Bilbo wasn’t sure if that was really…

He felt a whine pull through his throat as Thorin shook him and he curled up tighter, trying to trap Thorin to the bed. He gripped at the bedding as Thorin shook him again, his fingers rubbing lightly against the back of his neck, and Bilbo shook his head.

He didn’t care that they needed to be there to officiate the ceremonial lighting of whoever’s forge was being light today, he wanted to sleep in. He wanted to cuddle and the minute he let Thorin up, he wasn’t going to get that. He twisted slightly when Thorin shook him again, wrapping himself around Thorin more securely as he glared up at the crystals.

He let out a, slaughtered, vile Hobbitish curse and buried his head into the crook of Thorin’s neck. He whined, the feeling vibrating against the back of his nose, when Thorin began to pry him up.

“No,” Bilbo protested and felt Thorin become like rock beneath him.

“No move,” Bilbo managed to force out, though he wasn’t sure if he was understood till he felt Thorin relax and Thorin’s chest vibrate and move beneath him.

He followed Thorin’s careful urging until he was looking up and sighed. “Fine,” he mumbled and slowly got up, though he dragged his feet and tried to keep from moving.

He really did want a day to just laze in bed and not move. It would be nice, to just have a day with no duties except emergencies, but Bilbo doubted that would come to pass. He sighed as he slumped against the covers, hoping that if he didn’t move, time would just stay still, only to find Thorin in his space.

He tried to glare, but Thorin carefully leaned in and pressed a kiss against his forehead. When he pulled back, he was already beginning to gesture.

 _“We’ll find time for us after the Festival, I promise,”_ he gestured and Bilbo nodded before he slowly sat up.

He held his hand out to Thorin, who took it and pulled him up into standing. Today, he could tell, was going to be another long day with still doing the cleanup of yesterday’s dye disaster and he resisted the urge to just flop back onto the bed.

Maybe, if he was very lucky, he’d get an hour with Gentleheart.

*~*~*

Thorin smiled as he pressed a kiss to Bilbo’s forehead, enjoying the soft skin under his chapped lips before he pulled back to smile down at his husband. He looked tired and drained in his deep red clothing for the Festival, and they had not even seen Bighâl’s Forge light yet.

He rubbed Bilbo’s arms through his layers and nuzzled Bilbo’s temple with his nose, noting that the chain was around the collar and the ear cuffs were in place. Slowly reaching down, Thorin gently gripped Bilbo’s hands, nearly starting when he just felt skin, instead of a cool band of gold.

“Darling,” he murmured softly and he felt Bilbo shift to lean against him.

He wrapped his arms around Bilbo and rested his cheek on Bilbo’s curls. Even if cuddling with his husband meant they would be late for breakfast, Thorin couldn’t think of where he’d rather be.

*~*~*

They had been late for Breakfast, but Bilbo didn’t look too disappointed. He just seemed to be relieved that he didn’t need to pause every few bites to answer questions, and Thorin had a feeling that when the Festival was over, Bilbo was just going to go be a Hobbit for a day, refusing any and all Royal Business, barring any emergencies.

Thorin winced at the fact that he didn’t _need_ (though he should) to watch over his Guilds as Bilbo did and, during the Festival, was free to relax more than Bilbo was, as his duties as Consort meant he had to oversee everything.

Of course, Bilbo was fantastic at delegating, but sometimes…

Maybe next year Bilbo could have more time off instead of being stressed from his fuzzy toes to the tips of his ears.

Maybe _next year_ , Thorin might actually not spend every day in the Forges.

That…was probably a better plan.

He made the silent promise as he leaned over to press a kiss to Bilbo’s cheek. Bilbo immediately flushed, but he turned and returned it quickly.

Thorin smiled and sat back, very relieved that he hadn’t earned Bilbo’s short term ire at the late breakfast.

*~*~*

“Fíli,” Thorin greeted as he began to work on the mold he would be pouring his gold mixture into.

Fíli smiled a bit and he pulled out the gold and copper he had obviously picked for today. An odd choice, but not one Thorin would comment on, and instead he leaned forward. “And what do you need Courage for, my nephew?” Thorin asked gently.

“Courage to look past the prejudices of my elders and see the truth right before my eyes,” Fíli answered simply and Thorin clasped Fíli’s shoulder before he focused back down on his work.

*~*~*

Thorin frowned a bit at the ring he had made, wondering why he had added the gem.

He had heard, of course, of Dwarves falling into a Haze as they Crafted. It sped up the process, but also was…channeling, of a sort, where it was said that Mahal himself guided their hand.

Thorin just didn’t understand why the gold, which had been mixed with platinum so that it was only _slightly_ malleable instead of being able to be cut with a finger nail like pure gold could be, ring had changed in design. Originally, it was to be a plain band with leaves etched into it. Now, it was a heavier sort, with vines braided along the band, a lip coming up to keep them from catching anything, even as the leaves came up to clasp a rose cut ruby.

He ran his finger along it carefully and winced slightly at the fact the top was sharp. It would cut if not kept carefully and he made a mental note to inform Bilbo of that. He inspected the ring, wondering if it was truly something for Bilbo (the leaves and the cut of the gem were enough to tell Thorin it was, but he wondered anyway), though found no way it could catch on anything too badly. It would probably be put in a pocket when he groomed Gentleheart, but Thorin knew that Bilbo would take care of it.

After all, today was the Day of Courage and there was no way he could let fear rule him today.

*~*~*

Bilbo sunk further into the bath, not caring that it was barely past lunch. Instead he just focused on trying to get his muscles to loosen and relax.

He could write a horror story based off the mess that was the Guild Halls, or the Consort’s Guild Halls (he still did not understand why the entrances were split despite the fact they opened up into the same area and mixed completely after that, but Bilbo just didn’t bother trying to figure it out anymore), at the moment. As it turned out, multiple gifts had been damaged by the dyes and the Mercers’ Guild was…well, he thought they were going to slice beards from skin.

He was pretty sure he had misinterpreted it as Ori looked rather pale and Bifur looked ready to warn people off with his spear. It was probably slit them ear from ear.

Oh, yes, that made much more sense.

He’d have to remind Nori to have some of his little magpies (Bilbo’s name for the thieves and spies that worked under the Spymaster’s direction) insure that no neck slitting actually happened.

Beards could be removed, but he did _not_ want to have to organizing getting blood off stone in the markets.

He let out a long sigh and scrubbed at his face, snorting a bit and shaking his head violently when he got water up his nose. He felt a vibration start behind the bone in his chest and travel to behind his nose, scrubbing his fingers through his hair. Ugh, this was just…

Why did it have to happen during the Festival?

With only about a third of the Guild members, _of the combined Guilds_ in the Halls at a time, instead of the three-fourths like it usually was, Bilbo was sure more damage would be discovered over the coming days, and by the Seventh Day, Bilbo was truly worried that he’d find that all the Gifts stored there to give between the Guilds would be destroyed.

He felt vibrations come through the water and he looked up to find Thorin staring down at him. Bilbo blinked in surprise, even as he curled up to rest his arms on the edge of the tub, resting his head in the crook of the elbow. “Lots of damaged gifts,” Bilbo reported and Thorin immediately leaned down to press a kiss to Bilbo’s curls.

He _really_ hoped that meant he was understood.

He figured he was when Thorin gestured, _“Do you wish to go for a ride with me? I’m sure Bombur would love to pack us a Tea.”_

 _“Bath first,”_ Bilbo gestured back and smiled, even as his face heated up while Thorin undid his belt.

*~*~*

Thorin’s mount darted away from Gentleheart, nearly unseating Thorin, even as he calmed the stallion down. “Blasted brute,” Thorin grumbled, even as Bilbo reined Gentleheart in, the ruby red ribbons braided into the pony’s mane and tail fluttering in the breeze.

Bilbo was smiling, however, looking alive in the autumn sunlight and Thorin was eager to follow him, even with guards at their heels. Not that they could go very quickly, as their mounts carried their small picnic, but Thorin was enjoying the time outside of Erebor, even if it was only for a brief moment.

There was time enough to give Bilbo the ring that was Thorin’s Promise of Courage.

*~*~*

Fíli swallowed nervously as he clutched at the decorative piece he had created for the Golden Day of Courage.

He had known what he was going to create since the day he had come to realize what a coward he had been upon seeing Bilbo doing a good job as Heir’s Consort. Of seeing the way that he easily replaced his mother, even surpassed her, and knowing that…

He had to set it right.

Fíli wasn’t like most Dwarves; he didn’t need to see his Promise. He needed to know that it was cared for, and he knew there was only one person in the entirety of Erebor who would be able to care for this Promise.

“Kíli,” Fíli called as he stepped forward, the statue of a mounted archer made of rose gold glinting in the torchlight as his younger brother turned to face him.

“I promise to never let fear get the better of my courage ever again, nadadith,” Fíli stated as he held it out to him and Kíli beamed before he threw himself across the hallway to hug Fíli tight.

Careful of the promise, Fíli hugged him back just as tight.

In an alcove, Bilbo gently tugged Thorin away.

They would talk to their nephews another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone wondering, at the end of the fic, there will be a list of the Days and the relation and all that fun stuff.
> 
> Also, what we aren't seeing; the unorganized festivities. Basically, there is a carnival in the Mountain and everyone who is not working or in the Forges are playing games. Because the Royals are busy, they don't get to enjoy it till the last day.
> 
> The Last Day is _really important_ because of what it represents and every other thing and to do _anything_ bad on this day is just...
> 
> No.
> 
> The only people who work are the guards on the battlements and that is because enemies of the Dwarves that are not Dwarves might attack.
> 
> And...just don't.
> 
> This is basically memorized by the Bad Guys.
> 
> It doesn't happen anymore.
> 
> Bad Things happen when attacks happen on the Seventh Day.


	6. Silver Day of Honor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aka The Fourth Day of the Festival of Seven Fathers, in Honor of Thûlin, the Fourth and Most Honorable of the Seven Fathers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS WHERE MOST OF THE SPOILERS FOR THE FIRST PART ARE!!!
> 
> IN THIS CHAPTER!!!
> 
> Not _huge_ but for people reading the first part, you are going to get MAJORLY SPOILED by this. Like...huge spoiler.
> 
> OH!!
> 
> There is some VERY MINOR Kili/Tauriel thing...but like, Kili having a puppy crush and Tauriel and Tauriel being amused over it!
> 
> I have PLANS for those two, later, but like....not huge plans. I want them to have a brother/sister relationship, 'cause I don't see that very often. That and...I have issues writing Kili and Tauriel romantically, even though I think it is a cute little ship.
> 
> Like...very puppies and kittens and bunnies.
> 
> But anyway, yeah, one-sided puppy crush Kili/Tauriel.
> 
> It is adorable, but Kili kind-of knows it won't go anywhere and people are ALLOWED their crushes and being cute little puppy dogs over it, okay?
> 
> (Kili fucking adorable in those DoS scenes, all right?)

Bilbo smiled as he shifted his head so Thorin could slip the earcuffs onto his ears, feeling a vibration fill his chest, throat, and behind his nose as Thorin gently brushed his fingers from the point of Bilbo's ear down to the lobe. He shifted and closed his eyes as Thorin's  _very_ strong fingers began to massage along his scalp. He happily leaned into the massage and felt more vibrations build behind his nose and lips as Thorin shifted to massaging down his neck, even if it was over cloth due to the high neck of the tunic.

He felt Thorin's fingers twitch and he whined as he slowly opened his eyes, blinking them sleepily as he looked up to find the crystals moving above. He let out a long huff and frowned, even as he slowly began to stand up. He wavered slightly as he found his feet and he felt Thorin's warmth press into his lower back as Thorin kept him falling, which had Bilbo curling into his side. He nuzzled against Thorin's chest and exhaled heavily through his nose as he felt Thorin’s chest buzz under his forehead.

Bilbo slowly looked up to find Balin standing there and he let out another long sigh. He slowly stood up, making sure the ruby ring was in place before he turned to focus on Thorin, who leaned down to press a kiss to Bilbo’s lips. He pulled back and Bilbo leaned after him slightly, chasing after Thorin for another kiss, smiling when he gained it.

*~*~*

Bilbo sighed softly as he made sure that his late afternoon clothing for the greeting of their visitors was hanging up. He wrote a note for a page to give to Dwalin at the fourth bell, which was an hour before Thorin and Bilbo had to meet with the guests for tomorrow, hoping he could manage to keep everyone occupied.

Last year, apparently, Thranduil and Legolas had come and that…that had not ended well. This year well…Bilbo had hopes his presence could smooth things over, though if Aeglossel came it would be so much simpler.

His auntie always was the _sensible_ one of her family.

*~*~*

Bilbo smiled as he finished braiding the silver-gray ribbons into Gentleheart’s tail, making sure that nothing was irritating the gelding before he began to tack the seal brown pony up. He scratched the gelding’s cheek once the bridle was situated and lead the gelding around for a few moments, making sure the saddle was actually cinched fully (it wasn’t, the brat).

Once reassured he wouldn’t be on the ground the moment his feet left the ground, Bilbo was mounting up, settling in the saddle. Squeezing with his thighs, his heels going down, he nudged Gentleheart’s sides, the gelding easily walking forward, following Bilbo’s subtle commands.

As they passed the low stone wall that separated the main path from the paddock, Bilbo was surprised to find the bay horse, a stocky, sturdy, steadfast creature with a black stripe through its mane and tail, along with down the spine, being lead past, tacked up. Bilbo watched the horse being lead, eyes widening as his eyebrows rose when he saw Fíli leading the horse. He settled in to watch, wincing when he saw Fíli mount up like he was throwing a bag of potatoes over the horse’s back.

He was as bad as Bilbo when he started out, but while Bilbo rode at every opportunity, Bilbo didn’t think Fíli rode…at all. He winced as he saw the way Fíli had his elbows practically at his shoulders, the horse backing to get away from the pressure on his mouth. Bilbo sighed and rode over to the wall, surprised when Fíli stilled entirely, tense to the point Bilbo was worried he was going to fall off.

Bilbo shifted his posture on Gentleheart and watched as Fíli slowly copied the horse relaxing under Fíli’s change of posture. Bilbo nodded and rode over to the gate, dismounting to open the gate, leading Gentleheart through and closed it behind them. With a few bounces, Bilbo was back in the saddle and rode over to Fíli. “Want help?” Bilbo asked weakly and Fíli hesitated before he nodded with a small smile.

With a shift, Bilbo began to help Fíli with his posture. While not an expert, he wanted to at least keep the horse from getting bruises along his back while Fíli rode.

*~*~*

“Your husband is a task master! I didn’t think my thighs could ever feel this sore,” Fíli grumbled and Thorin chuckled, even as he carefully hooked the silver pendant that looked like a blooming flower, with a diamond in the center, onto the platinum leaf chain.

“Wait till tomorrow, dear nephew, and you’ll be wishing for your legs to be chopped off,” Thorin stated and Fíli’s eyes widened, even as Kíli ran up in his proper garments, though they were wrinkled and nowhere near neat enough for such an important event.

“Am I late?” he panted out as Dís swept in a royal purple dressed that was layered with blues and reds, who immediately set about straightening Kíli up.

“No,” Thorin promised before he pressed a kiss to Bilbo’s forehead just as horns began to blow.

“Ah, it seems the Elves have arrived first this year,” Dís stated and Fíli bit back his laugh at Thorin’s wrinkled nose at the proclamation.

*~*~*

Thorin blinked in surprise as Queen Aeglossel drifted up the walkway, hair intricately braided out of her face, followed loosely by a contingent of female guards. She paused at a respectful distance and curtsied. “King Thorin, Consort Bilbo, it is an honor to be invited,” she greeted as she stood once more.

“Queen Aeglossel, it is an honor to see you here,” Thorin responded and she smiled brightly before she focused on Bilbo, her entire face morphing into one of pure joy.

Her eyes light up and her smile widened as she stepped forward. Thorin didn’t have any time to voice any of his protests before Bilbo was suddenly rushed forward hugging the She-Elf tight as she knelt down. Her hand came up, running her fingers through his curly hair before she cuddled him close. “My Bilbo, look at you,” she murmured, drawing back, elegant fingers already gesturing through what she just said.

Bilbo immediately ducked his head, a blush dusting across his cheeks, the lack of glint reminding Thorin Bilbo hadn’t put his circlet on.

Thorin resisted the urge to chuckle while resisting the urge to tug Bilbo back, even as the pair dissolved into gesturing back and forth. Thorin watched, even as Queen Aeglossel leaned forward to place a kiss on Bilbo’s forehead. “Later,” she promised as she slowly stood, Bilbo retreating back to Thorin’s side with a nod.

“Lady Dís, it has been too long!” Queen Aeglossel greeted as she continued down the line, so unlike her husband in her warmth, reaching out easily to the Dwarves her husband had aligned their Woodland Realm with.

Thorin glanced down at Bilbo, who merely looked back with innocent eyes before he leaned up for a kiss, one Thorin gladly bestowed on his husband.

*~*~*

The Men came shortly after the Elves, Lord Bard striding forward with his daughter, Sigrid, at his elbow. His bow was a bit stilted, but Sigrid’s curtsy was smooth as glass. Thorin bowed in return with Bilbo and he was unsurprised when Bilbo stepped forward to greet Bard a little less formally.

While neither Thorin’s father, nor grandfather, had done as such, Thorin knew that the reason the Men of Dale (and Laketown) were a bit warmer towards Erebor after the…Incidents was Bilbo. Bard also seemed to be less grim when he talked to Bilbo, and Lady Sigrid was quick to greet Bilbo once Bard was finished greeting him. The pair seemed to be gesturing about needlework and Fíli seemed to be caught between interrupting and staying back.

Eventually Fíli stepped forward and carefully interrupted with a simple gesture of, _“Uncle, the Lady Sigrid and I are having a yearly competition in the Knife Throwing event.”_

Bilbo laughed at that and immediately shooed at the pair of them stepping back to Thorin’s side. Once they finished greeting the rest, Dís and Aeglossel parting long enough to go through with tradition, they headed to the events within Erebor, Fíli and Sigrid having already long left them, Kíli not far behind.

“Come, Lady Tauriel, you said you’d best me in Archery this year,” Kíli called as he ran off, the red-headed Captain of the Guard running after him only after Aeglossel shooed her off.

“They act as if I cannot defend myself, honestly,” she murmured with a light laugh.

Thorin merely chuckled when Bilbo nodded in solemn agreement when Aeglossel effortlessly translated what she said.

*~*~*

The Royal Family and Guests settled on the pavilion as the Events began, Bilbo smiling behind his hand as he watched Sigrid stride out, head high, Fíli following at her heels. There was an Elf with them, obviously female as she had been with Auntie, and the rest were Dwarves Bilbo did not know. He knew that Dwarves had been drifting in, unofficial visitors from faraway, though no Dwarven allies of Thorin’s. He had triple checked that with not only Ori and Nori, but Dori as well, the three of them always being able to cover the entire Mountain between them.

Not that Bilbo let anyone outside of the three know that was how he remained omnipresent, instead letting the rumors grow that he was some sort of magical creature who could ‘see into the souls of the unwary’.

As the participants settled into position, Bilbo glanced briefly over when Auntie settled next to him, instead of at the traditional Elf seat, which was next to Thorin. Thorin didn’t seem to mind, however, already leaning over to speak with Bard, and Bilbo smiled when she pat his hand, drawing his attention back to the Knife Throwing Event.

He watched as Sigrid balanced the first throwing knife and, with a well-trained throw, smooth and unhindered by the loose dress she wore, the knife buried itself in the center of the target. He blinked and glanced around to see if it was appropriate to applaud before he gripped the armrests, seeing that no one else was applauding. He smiled as he watched Fíli step up, a fluid motion, and his knife was buried in the center of his target. The Elf was just as close, as well as two more Dwarves, but the rest hit the outside rings, or didn’t even hit the target.

He watched as they were escorted off, leaving the five remaining contestants. The Elf and another Dwarf were knocked out next, leaving Fíli, Sigrid, and the unknown Dwarf in the running. It was over by the next round, however, the Dwarf getting an outside ring, Fíli’s knife sinking into the edge between the bull’s eye and the inner ring, and Sigrid getting the bull’s eye.

That was when the applause began and Bilbo smiled as he joined in, Sigrid accepting a fancy dagger and sheath as her prize, with Fíli getting a not nearly as fancy dagger with sheath as runner-up.

The third Dwarf, who was glowering slight under their beard, received only a small bag of coin, which Bilbo knew to be a slight. He was about to gesture and ask, only for Thorin to reach over and rest his hand over Bilbo’s wrist.

They would talk about it later, then, and Thorin lifted his hand as he stood, giving his respects as King to the winners, the trio before him bowing in return before they drifted off, Sigrid sitting on Bard’s left while Fíli ran off. Bilbo was about to ask when he saw the targets being shifted and the archers taking the field.

Kíli seemed to be attempting to flirt with the red-headed Elf that had joined them and Bilbo, having seen Kíli’s crushes in the past, wasn’t too worried. Considering how the red-headed Elf was smiling a bit as she looked to the side, Bilbo wasn’t too worried that she’d give her heart to someone who wasn’t truly giving his in return.

Now, in a couple of decades well…Bilbo would worry then, but not a moment before.

The archers took their places and, probably at some announcement, released their arrows. Kíli, the red-headed Elf, four other Elves, three other Dwarves, and five Men passed to the next round, their arrows hitting either the bull’s eye (Kíli and the red-headed Elf), or the inner ring. Bilbo settled back on his throne and watched as they set up again, only one Dwarf getting knocked out the next time.

Each time the arrows hit the targets, which were further back each time, another contestant fell out of line until the targets were against the far wall, leaving only Kíli, Tauriel, a Man, and two Dwarves were left. Then the targets began to get smaller, until only the red-headed Elf and Kíli were left. He glanced over when he felt Thorin tap his wrist and raised an eyebrow at the gesture, _“Last year, Tauriel won by splitting Kíli’s_ _arrow in the tie breaker round.”_

Bilbo blinked in surprise as he turned back, watching as Kíli released his final arrow, it sinking into the target dead center. He watched as the red-headed Elf, Tauriel, stepped up, drawing back. As the arrow was released, Bilbo inhaled sharply and watched as it sunk right next to Kíli’s.

Bilbo exhaled, feeling as if his entire body had become water as Kíli bounced excitedly, accepting a beautifully carved bow and equally decorated quiver, the arrows fletched with raven’s feathers. Tauriel received a slightly less ‘decorated’ bow and quiver, those arrows fletched with unfamiliar feathers. The Man that had come in third by the skin of his teeth got a plain bow and quiver, the arrows fletched with brown feathers.

The three walked forward, Thorin standing up to give his respect as King to the winners while Bilbo applauded.

*~*~*

The rest of the evening passed in similar events. Bilbo had been surprised by the vast amount of events there were, most showing off honorable prowess on the battlefield. The three winners of each event gained items, a few getting bags of coin instead at each turn, until finally Thorin stood up. Bilbo glanced slightly, relaxing when he realized that he didn’t need to stand.

Thorin would have tugged him up otherwise. He watched as Thorin gestured to the crowd, obviously speaking to them before he turned and held his hand out to Bilbo, who accepted it, smiling as he was gently guided to stand at Thorin’s side. There were more one-handed gestures and then Thorin bowed to Bilbo, stepping to the side, Bilbo stepping forward at Thorin’s subtle tug, smiling when he saw the crowd applauding.

Bilbo had a feeling he was going to be ‘killing’ his husband for whatever he just said.

*~*~*

 _“I’m doing **what**?”_ Bilbo gestured wildly once they were out of sight of the population of Erebor.

 _“Overseeing the mounted events tomorrow. They cannot be held today, on the day of Honor as the guests for the Day of Loyalty, arrive too late. Instead, the mounted games are held in the afternoon, outside of Erebor’s gates before everyone retreats back inside for the feast and on the day after the Day of Loyalty…they are sent off,”_ Thorin explained.

_“Why me?”_

_“Tradition and…I am crafting tomorrow,”_ he explained and Bilbo let out a long sigh, even as he nodded in agreement.

 _“Wonderful. What was the bag of coins?”_ Bilbo gestured.

 _“Those who did not behave honorably receive a bag of coins to show that while they may have won, they did so in a dishonorable way and will not be allowed to compete for the rest of their lives. In the case of the Men and Elves, they will not be able to enter Erebor again till they have…cleaned that tarnish from their honor,”_ Thorin explained and Bilbo nodded before he scrubbed his fingers through his hair, glad he had forgone the circlet the moment he could.

 _“Lovely. I need a bath,”_ Bilbo gestured.

 _“Would you mind company?”_ Thorin responded.

Bilbo considered for a moment before he grabbed Thorin and began to drag him towards their quarters.

*~*~*

“Aeglossel was my mother’s friend. I’ve called her Auntie for as long as I have known her,” Bilbo explained after they had finished washing and were just relaxing in a steaming bath.

Bilbo’s words slurred and stumbled over themselves, but the fact he had said it out loud instead of just gesturing told Thorin how close the Queen of the Woodland Realm was to Bilbo. Not that their very public display of familial affection hadn’t told him, but this spoke of an older, closer, bond than the one Thorin had suspected at first. _“And why was I never told this?”_ Thorin gestured, finding it strange to reverse the symbols as Bilbo was reclining against his chest and seemed disinclined to move.

 _“You never asked. I also believed Balin had informed you,”_ Bilbo gestured back and Thorin pressed his forehead against the back of Bilbo’s head to nod, bringing his hands back down to wrap around Bilbo’s ribcage, gently pulling him closer.

Bilbo went easily, the water rippling from the movement, and he tipped his head back to press against Thorin’s shoulder. Thorin smiled at that and nuzzled Bilbo’s curls before he relaxed in the bath, head leaning against the top of Bilbo’s head.

They stayed like that till the water cooled and their skin had pruned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, obviously I've moved on from the crafting of things. The item was almost a circlet before I decided that made Bilbo's head too busy.
> 
> So, up next is...LOYALTY!!
> 
> Originally, Loyalty was copper, but I changed it to iron because...iron gets used a lot in things. It is a "loyal" metal. It gets used a _lot_!
> 
> Also; expect more Fili (Kili gets enough page time) and Sigrid being buddies, Kili being ridiculous over Tauriel, and SURPRISES!!


	7. Iron Day of Loyalty (The Gift Giving)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aka The Fifth Day of the Festival of Seven Fathers, in Honor of Sindri, the Fifth and Most Loyal of the Seven Fathers
> 
> (Also, consider spoilers just from now on. Not ALL THE REVEALED PLOT spoilers, not even in the last chapter, just...minor spoilers that will make things not as, "oooooh" when read in the First Part.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....I broke my own rule. Originally, this was going to one chapter, however the way the Feast began...it wasn't going to happen.
> 
> So, bright side...CHAPTER EIGHT IS GONNA PROBABLY BE AS LONG AS THIS ONE!!!

Thorin smiled up at a grinning Bilbo who was straddling his waist, knees squeezing his rib cage. Thorin ran his hands up and down Bilbo's sides, smiling at the layer of fat he could feel there now, instead of the faint impression of ribs.

Bilbo squirmed as he leaned forward, bracing himself on Thorin's chest, hands pressing against his pectorals. Bilbo smiled brightly at him before he leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to Thorin's lips, followed by another.

Soon they stopped being so chaste and Thorin hummed happily as he felt Bilbo nipping at his lips, parting them slightly to feel Bilbo slip his tongue in. He felt his husband’s tongue wrap around his and…

He let out a low groan when his thoughts derailed when Bilbo sucked on his tongue and drew it into his own mouth and…that had to be illegal. How did Bilbo get that good?

How…what?

He panted softly as Bilbo pulled back and he opened his eyes (when the _fuck_ had they closed?) to find Bilbo flushed. Thorin frowned a bit and then realized that certain parts of him were _definitely_ taking a more noticeable interest in the proceedings. He groaned slightly and leaned up, nudging his forehead against Bilbo’s when he felt Bilbo starting to move down. His fingers were dancing along Thorin’s ribs and he let out a low moan, resisting the urge to rock up against Bilbo.

So far, they had kept their sexual explorations over clothes and Bilbo was always the one who initiated. Now, Bilbo was dragging his fingers slowly down his sleeping shirt as he wiggled backward, smiling that thoughtful smile before he tugged at the sleep shirt. Thorin let out another moan, his hips twitching upward, Bilbo flushing from the tip of his ears to his chest at that, even as he continued to trace his fingers up to Thorin’s stomach, watching him as Thorin did his very best not to unseat his husband.

Bilbo’s fingers were just brushing against his hip, and Thorin was wondering when Bilbo had slipped his hand halfway into his sleep pants, when the crystals clinked above, their light reflecting around the room.

Thorin doesn’t think he was overreacting in hefting up the, empty, candleholder and throwing it at the door in retaliation, even if it had Bilbo smacking his chest as he laughed at the aggravated Dwarf King.

*~*~*

Thorin watched as Bilbo tried to get the black coat with iron beads stitched in the shape of his Sigil (a geometric pattern that looked like thorny vines encircling the sun) across the back, obviously having trouble. Thorin had the same trouble, when he first wore the Coat of Loyalty, and he crossed to help him adjust the coat. Bilbo smiled up at him as he rose up on his tiptoes and pressed a kiss to Thorin’s nose. Thorin felt his nose wrinkle slightly at that. Once he had opened his eyes, he found Bilbo waiting patiently. _“So…where do we receive our Guests?”_ Bilbo gestured.

Thorin frowned and twitched his head to the side in thought. He knew what Bilbo was speaking of, but he wasn’t entirely sure where it was, the regular throne room being deemed ‘not proper enough’ for his grandfather in the early days of his kingship. Since it was built, the Gifts between the Three ‘Kingdoms’ (Dale wasn’t truly a kingdom, not yet anyway) had been exchanged there. It was during the beginning of his father’s reign that personal gifts between the royalty, as well as the political, were given as well, mostly to insure that all gifts got where they needed to go.

This was after fifty years of presents going missing however.

 _“I have no idea,”_ Thorin stated and Bilbo stared at him before he fell against Thorin’s chest as he began to laugh.

*~*~*

Bilbo looked around in awe of the large room designated for the Exchange of Gifts, the open airy place filled with sunlight and the last clinging scents of summer clinging to the growing chill of autumn. He was sure Thorin was watching him in amusement, though Bilbo could hardly bring himself to care as he walked back to Thorin’s side, smiling as he settled on the, surprisingly comfy, throne.

Fíli and Kíli already had placed the Gifts in an easy to reach spot and Bilbo knew he could trust Dís to keep a sharp eye on them. Bilbo was, mostly, just thankful Dori had helped him get ready for today, as Thorin was…inadequately prepared, to put it politely, which had made the former Courtesan laugh behind his tea cup when Bilbo had shared that observation while finishing the last of the Gifts.

First, the Woodland Realm would give their Gifts to Dale, then Erebor followed by Dale, who returned the Woodland Realm’s gesture before showing their loyalty to Erebor. Erebor, finally, would give Gifts in return simultaneously, which was why Bilbo had roped the boys, and their mother, into helping him.

He smiled when he felt Thorin touch his hand and looked over at his husband in time to see Bard take his seat, his black cloak buckled so that his left arm was free, but the right covered, Sigrid seated a bit behind him in a dress of blood red and gold.

With a small nod, the crown sitting on Thorin’s head glinting slightly in the sunlight, Bilbo focused forward, surprised to see that Auntie had already taken her seat, Tauriel standing next to her and holding a small white dog. Dressed in a pale blue dress, she began to make a speech, her hands already beginning to gesture.

 _“I give my thanks and blessings this day to be within the Hall of Loyalty once more to reaffirm our bonds as a united front against all dangers that would dare oppose us in hopes that one day we can officially call this a meeting of the Three **Kingdoms** and not just a way to show favoritism to two of the realms. May your reign be prosperous, King Thorin and Consort Bilbo,”_ Auntie gestured and with a smile she gestured toward the doors.

 _“To Bard, the Lord of Dale, we give a small herd of Drafts that come from my personal stables. May their lines strengthen your people’s herds, my lord,”_ Auntie gestured as she spoke, the doors opening to reveal a pair of matched grays.

 _“These are merely two examples of the chosen Gifts, as the entire herd could not be brought into the chambers,”_ Auntie gestured as the, surprisingly clean-legged, smooth gaited, heavily boned grays were lead in.

There was minor fussing as they were lead around in a circle before they were brought before Bard’s throne and the Elves gave a respectful bow, the horses mimicking them.

Bard stood up in surprise, his cloak having shifted slightly to reveal more of his unadorned blood red tunic, with Sigrid right behind him. Of course, she looked ready to rush down to inspect the horses and Bilbo was sure the only thing keeping her from doing just that was the fact this was a rather important event.

While Bard did not gesture, Bilbo knew he accepted the gifts, Men coming forward to take the Drafts from the Elves before leading them out. Once the horses were lead out, Bilbo focused on his Auntie, who was staring up at them, her silver crown sparkling like starlight as she addressed them. _“To the King and Consort of Erebor, horses mean little and we do not breed ponies in the Woodland Realm. You are a people who live and breathe your Crafts, even if they are the people you have adopted instead of having been born to. As such, the only Gifts I could conceivably give is one of equal value; Crafts of our own. May your reign bring peace and prosperity and may our Alliance be ever fertile,”_ Auntie gestured as she spoke and turned to face an Elf who came up to her.

She took a rather large sized box from him and turned to them, opening it to reveal a pair of wooden carvings of himself and Thorin amongst the velvet lined box. They would fit beautifully above the mantel, and Bilbo slowly stood up, noting Thorin had as well, as he gestured the proper acceptance of the Gifts. Thorin, Bilbo was sure, was saying it as he accepted the box from Auntie.

With a smile, Bilbo slowly sat back down, while Thorin set the box on the table next to him (Thorin didn’t like having a table between them if he could avoid it), before he sat back down, signaling that Bard could begin.

Bard did not gesture, probably because he did not know any gesture language enough to do so, and Bilbo instead took to watching him. When he seemed to call for someone, Bilbo looked toward the front and smiled when he saw a group of long legged hunting dogs being brought in, though he nearly laughed when he saw his Auntie already leaving her throne to interact with the dogs. They were wiggling menaces, most likely, but they slowly quieted under her presence until they were settled loyally at her feet.

While Bilbo had heard that Elves could tame any creature, unless it was completely corrupted by the Shadow, Bilbo doubted that any of them could beat his Auntie. She was in a league of her own, her passions running towards carefully crafting horse breeds, dog breeds, and even Thranduil’s elks.

 _“I thank thee for this most generous Gift, Lord Bard of Dale,”_ she gestured as she responded and, with obvious reluctance, she parted from the dogs, a pair of Elves collecting them from the Men as she did so.

When the Elves had finally escorted the dogs back out, Bard faced them. Bilbo could not tell a soul what Bard was saying, but when a pair of Men stepped forward, carrying a covered…something, Bilbo stood, intrigued, Thorin following his lead. Bard didn’t hesitate to pull the covering off to reveal a painting of the three Kings and their Heirs, the Elf standing next to Thranduil having more of Auntie’s looks than Thranduil’s, but marking him as the eldest son.

Bilbo had never met him, as he was apparently always busy, but Bilbo rather liked it and could understand Bard not wishing to have the painting be the Kings and their Consorts. He knew the Lady Nadia’s death was still too close to Bard’s heart to even attempt it and Bilbo gestured the appropriate thanks, while a pair of Dwarf pages carefully collected the portrait to carry it out of the room.

Retreating to their thrones, Bilbo inhaled nervously, even as Thorin stood. He spoke to the three others and then held his hand out for Bilbo, who took it as he stood.

This is what he had practiced for, this is what Bifur, Ori, Dori, Fíli and Kíli and, by the Valar, even _Nori_ had helped him with. With another inhale, Bilbo cleared his throat and began to speak, keeping the vibration in his chest and throat as he remembered it through the many lessons when he decided he had to do this.

“Our most honored and loyal of allies, I welcome you to Erebor, gladdened to see you within our halls. While I may have never seen you here before, or I may have seen you for all your visits, I cannot help but think that this time is a better one,” Bilbo began and paused to inhale slowly.

“When I was instructed in this tradition, I could not help but think of a tradition in the Shire and brought it with me in Erebor’s Gifts to you, for it was so close to a Tradition I had never participated in, for there were none that were that close to me that had already not been adopted into my own family. You, our allies that stretch from Erebor’s door, down to a lake, and through Mirkwood, once known as Greenwood, I do not believe I am wrong in thinking that this Shire Tradition will do well here,” Bilbo continued and gestured to the boys, who rushed off to get the Gifts, smiling when he saw the clothes being carried out.

“In Shire Tradition, when we wish to say, ‘You are as close as Kin to me,’ we create clothing, so you will always be surrounded by our love and our respect. That we will come to your aid, should you call us, and…and so each article of clothing has a special stitch, done by me, mostly because Thorin is horrific with a needle and I shall never let him near one again, to represent a part of you I have come to know most, whether it be a name meaning, or a simple hobby. And I hope that they keep you warm with the promises made, and kept, by us this day,” Bilbo finished and swallowed, smiling his thanks when Dís pressed a goblet into his hands.

He sat down as he drank the ice cold water in the goblet, noting that Sigrid had quickly sorted what was for her brother and sister, and what was for them. Bilbo was sure that she would appreciate the fact the dress had slits that would allow her to ride astride with greater ease, but was crafted in such a way that the slits hid in the folds of the dress. When she looked up with a bright grin, Bilbo knew she had found them, even though Bard seemed to be stuck on admiring the coat which had an arrow stitched down the inside, out of sight of all.

With the last of the Political Gifts given, Thorin rose, gave his apologies, and moved the table so it was next to Bilbo. He then pressed a kiss to Bilbo’s forehead. _“Dís will keep my personal gifts safe. Be well,”_ Thorin gestured and Bilbo pressed a kiss to his husband’s beard before the Dwarf rushed away.

Bilbo resisted the urge to roll his eyes at that and instead focused forward, readying his personal gifts, once Dís was finished with Thorin’s. They were simple, truly, though Bard did seem to appreciate the new bow a great deal and Sigrid was practically _giddy_ over the set of knives she could hide on her person at all times.

Auntie seemed more amused than anything else over the cloak that seemed ornamental over functional until she twirled to reveal that it was weighted, meaning she could use it as a weapon. Bilbo was both surprised, and not, by the fact that these were their personal gifts that his husband chose to give them, most likely with input from Dís.

His own gifts were far simpler; a small trunk of knitted scarves for Tilda (she was _always_ losing scarves), a coat for Bain that was lined with the fur of a wolf, a hood that could be attached to any sort of clothing for Sigrid, who often forgot to wear her hooded anything to keep the rain off of her, and for Bard, tea for his stomach.

Bard gave his gifts, then, smiling at the way Kíli seemed overly happy with the arrows and Fíli ran his fingers along the unfamiliar fur that lined the coat. It was Sigrid, however, who had a present for Bilbo.

He was surprised as he set the goblet next to the metal box before he stepped forward to accept the wooden box, unable to stop his smile when she opened it for him to reveal rose seeds. He looked up at her, unsure of how to ask, or even receive an answer, before he was suddenly pulled into a hug, which caused the box to close with a faint vibration that made Bilbo’s fingers itch, that told Bilbo why he was getting her mother’s precious rose seeds.

He smiled brighter as she pulled back and walked back over to her seat, Bard having already given his gift to his Auntie, which seemed to be one amongst many for her husband and sons. Bilbo settled the wooden box next to the other boxes on the table, careful to make sure the goblet wouldn’t be knocked over as she stood.

 _“To the Lady Sigrid and the Lady Tilda, I give two of our Cobs. While they look exactly like what a noble lady of Men should ride, they are far livelier in movement and far more energetic in temperament with the ability to carry you and your sister far longer than any horse found outside of Rohan. To Lord Bain, we give his first Hunter, for he is of the age that he can join in the Chases,”_ Auntie gestured as she spoke and waved, once more to the entryway.

Bard looked partially resigned to it and Bilbo had a feeling he had asked Auntie to _not_ to give his children horses, but Sigrid was already walking over to the chestnut pair, the Elf holding the one closest to her, easily giving up the lead to her. The two chestnuts had shorter necks and livelier eyes, but they shared obvious ancestry with the bay that was straining at the lead. The bay, of course, looked closer to the Drafts that had already been let out, though of a finer, longer build.

Bilbo was intrigued and he jumped a little when he saw his Auntie walking up to him, Tauriel trailing after her. _“My dear Bilbo,”_ she gestured and Bilbo smiled, surprised when his Auntie carefully shifted his arms, Tauriel depositing the white fluff ball of a dog into Bilbo’s arms.

The dog immediately buried their nose into his neck, wiggling happily, and Bilbo looked up at Auntie. _“This is one of my companion dogs. Good watch dogs and usually very energetic, when she was born, she was quieter. I immediately remembered a time when some dogs were used to help those who were hard of hearing if someone was addressing them. I trained her since puppyhood, hoping I’d get to travel to the Shire to give her to you. I’ve trained her to your scent and I’m sure you’ll have no problems in keeping her by your side for the rest of her days,”_ Auntie gestured and Bilbo smiled brightly as he hugged the dog to him.

“What’s her name?” he asked and Auntie’s slightly inclined head told him he needed to repeat himself.

 _“Her name is Opal, and I’ll show you how to take care of her later,”_ Auntie promised and Bilbo nodded dumbly before he focused on Opal, who had settled quite happily in his arms.

He smiled down at her and cuddled her close, wondering how a dog was going to help keep him from being startled. He jumped slightly when Opal suddenly began to wiggle, shifting in his arms till she was focused over his shoulder as she pawed at his chest. Bilbo turned around and smiled a bit when he saw Dís standing there. _“Let’s get Opal settled,”_ Dís gestured and Bilbo nodded, smiling when he saw Fíli collecting up the boxes with Kíli.

*~*~*

Thorin started slightly when a white fluff of a dog rushed up to him barking twice before turning on their paws to run back to where Bilbo was reading, jumping up to paw at Bilbo’s leg. He raised an eyebrow when Bilbo looked up and beamed, giving the dog an unfamiliar gesture that had the fluff ball sitting quietly at Bilbo’s feet as he set the book to the side, walking up to Thorin, who shut the door.

 _“Dog?”_ Thorin gestured with his free hand, the other hiding the iron craft behind his back.

 _“Her name is Opal and is a gift from Auntie,”_ Bilbo gestured back and Thorin smiled as he brought the cast iron skillet up.

It was the simplest item Thorin had ever made, though the handle, while rounded, resembled an oak tree. Bilbo took it and smiled up at Thorin. _“I never need to remember my loyalty to you, because you are enough to remind me, but I couldn’t let the day go unmarked,”_ he gestured with a warm smile and Bilbo leaned up, kissing Thorin on the lips.

 _“Opal sleep with us?”_ Bilbo gestured roughly with one hand and Thorin smiled.

 _“Anything you want, Bilbo,”_ Thorin gestured in response.

Bilbo smiled and walked into the attached kitchen, Opal at Bilbo’s heels. Thorin smiled and decided he would ask later. When Bilbo returned, Thorin tugged at his hand. _“Let’s get ready for the Feast of Loyalty,”_ Thorin gestured and Bilbo let out a long, low groan, Opal whining softly at their feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The horses are....
> 
> Irish Drafts  
> Irish Cobs  
> Irish Hunter
> 
> ...essentially.
> 
> Opal is a Bichon Frise. She went from being a Glen of Immal Terrier to a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, to a Fox terrier, and finally settled on a Bichon Frise.
> 
> So, there you go.


End file.
